Quid Pro Quo
by DrunkOnJerichohol
Summary: She needs him; he wants her. When they decide an even trade is the answer, life becomes a whole lot more interesting. The old saying, "You scratch my back, I'll scratch yours," plays out in full force.
1. Something for Something

**Disclaimer** : All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. Any and all original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

The scene had played out far more times than Chris cared to admit.

His boss's daughter often stole away to his private dressing room, most typically at the conclusion of a busy night, when the show's end allowed her to successfully sneak off without turning too many heads. She blended right in with the squishy folds of his locker room sofa, by way of a button-up shirt and black business slacks that matched the leather, her feet covered by thin black socks. She kicked her shoes off the second she showed herself into his room, every time without fail, as if relieving the tension in her aching feet would mend the rest of her taxed body. She sought him out so often he had begun leaving his door unlocked, strictly for her.

Stephanie had undone her pants button for extra comfort to her waistline and drawn her feet up on the sofa, her legs bent sharply at the knees. She chewed on her right thumbnail and stared into space, her brows knitted together so fiercely they almost formed a makeshift unibrow. Chris chomped on his chewing gum and stole glances at her between repacking his bag and struggling not to lose track of his rental car keys. His ring gear had been strewn about the room for most of the night, but was now being neatly folded into piles and placed into the duffel he carried with him all the time on the road.

Humorous, Chris found it, the grounds upon which their unlikely friendship had been built. The bulk of their kinship was centered around unhappiness and an acute desire for something more; something that mattered. Work served only as more fuel sloshing into the ongoing fire. From Chris's natural abilities and charm to his unwavering professional efforts, little was ever good enough in the eyes of Vince McMahon, regardless of how hard Chris worked. The tight bond Vince had with Hunter didn't help matters. Vince and Hunter went way back, and his word counted for more than Chris's. He had a feeling his work rival was trashing him behind his back as well, figuring new ways to shove him down each time he tried to stand tall.

Stephanie had all but confirmed his suspicions based on conversations she had overheard while in the same room as her father and his "pet project," for lack of a better term. Her inner void, however, came from a completely different spot. She wanted, more than most things, to work outside of the family business. Far, far outside. Becoming a schoolteacher had been her dream since her teen years, but she had been herded into the WWE by her parents like a barn animal, and before she knew it, she was on the road with the whole roster on a weekly basis, expected to represent the McMahon name in every manner. She had little interest in the wrestling business.

Instead of flourishing, Stephanie remained stagnant in her accomplishments, almost like a natural way of fighting back against her parents' control. They used money to keep her in her place initially, threatening to defund everything from her luxury vehicle, to her six-figure home, to the designer clothes on her back if she stepped out of line. Of course, they did it with a wink and a smile, as if that made the undo pressure any better. Chris often wondered if grief was what kept her from branching out at the present, from taking initiative to become more than she had been since graduating from college in 1998. By now, she had saved enough money to escape, but sometimes the most invisible of chains held the greatest power.

Ever since Chris had met Stephanie―in August of 1999 to be precise―she had worn stuffy business suits. Sometimes she would branch out and wear a long librarian-style pencil skirt, but long pants were usually her go-to item. Her tops of choice were blazers or knit sweaters, all fashion decisions Linda had executed. She had taught Stephanie it was the only way to be ladylike and earn respect from the men and women who surrounded her, so Stephanie believed it. Her brown hair fell shiny and straight at her shoulders, like she had undoubtedly been directed to wear it, and anytime it crept in length past the ends of her shoulder blades, she got it trimmed again. Not too short, but never too long.

Makeup was minimal if not non-existent on the daily, but that was the one so-called rule designed for Stephanie that Chris actually liked and could get behind. Stephanie was beautiful, soft, and angelic to boot, and he didn't think she needed the extra color on her face. He did, however, think she needed to grow past the age of 22 mentally, emotionally, and spiritually. That would never happen under the influence of Vince and Linda. Five years after Chris's first meeting with Stephanie, she was still as meek and awkward as ever, with the entire weight of the world resting on her hunched shoulders.

Chris could relate because he held onto tons of weight too, what with his every wrestling desire being turned down by Vince or outright altered to benefit everybody except himself. He had given everything to the business, to the point that he had even foregone a wife and children, but still, Vince never so much as acknowledged that fact. Chris and Stephanie were different, but then again, they were just alike, and that was perhaps what had drawn them together most of all. Chris zipped up his bag when the last item was placed inside and shouldered it, running his fingers through his dampened hair, still drying from the shower. He tied it into a ponytail.

"You gonna be ready to head out soon?"

"I want to quit," Stephanie muttered. She shook her head, staring blankly at the far wall. "I just want to walk out and never come back again. I hate it here."

"Well, you can."

"But you know I can't."

"Hey," Chris said, advancing on her. He knelt in front of her and placed a hand on the side of her leg. "What have I already told you a million times? What have you and I talked about? Your mom and dad can't hold you hostage with money anymore. Maybe in the past they could, but if you need to get away, you can come and live with me. You have money now, I have money now, and you know I would take care of you, Steph. I would love having you around full-time."

Her eyes narrowed as she glanced at the hands folded in her lap, the same ones she had possessed for the past 27 years. Yet, they appeared foreign to her, like every other part of herself. "Dad already gives you such a hard time about moving up the ladder here. If he ever found out I was living with you, which he _w_ _ould_ find out, he would completely flip his lid. Everything that makes you furious about this place would become a hundred times worse and more unbearable, the favoritism and politics and all that. I don't want to be responsible for making your time here more awful than it ever needs to be."

"You won't, and he wouldn't find out."

"Chris, you live right down the street from Christian and Big Show. Eventually, they're going to see me with you, they'll tell other people, and it'll trickle down the line until it reaches my dad. I can't do that."

"Fine, I'll buy a different house in another neighborhood. What do you say?"

She met his eyes and smiled her first real smile of the night, placing her hand on his shoulder. "It's sweet that you would do that for me. You're a really good friend."

"So are you," he said. "Let's go eat and figure out our next move, huh?"

"Okay."

 **{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}**

The hotel clock read a quarter and two pennies past 2 AM when a knock came at his door. Chris was yanked out of a deep sleep, and irritation flooded his half-awake emotions. Then came worry when he began to imagine all the reasons for this middle of the night visit. Maybe someone he cared for was hurt, or worse. Jolting up in bed, Chris clicked on his lamp and tossed on some sweatpants. He didn't bother searching for a shirt and went to the door, checking the peephole. His heart soared when he beheld her sweet face, a healthy blush in her cheeks and a sparkle in her eye.

Chris guided open the door and caught her wrist. "Come in, come in. Are you okay?"

Her eyes were rimmed in red, but it appeared more from exhaustion than anything else. Nodding her head, she entered and spun around to face Chris when he closed the door. She waited until she had his full attention. "I couldn't sleep."

Stephanie's room was just down the hallway. Three doors to the right on the opposite row, precisely. Chris stepped forward and placed his hand on her hip. "That's okay. We can lie down together."

"Thanks," she answered, unsure what else to say.

Chris rubbed his eyes and yawned, bucking his head as a wordless signal for her to follow. "Come to bed."

"Okay."

It was not unusual for Stephanie to visit without warning, but never before had she preceded the morning sun. This was a different kind of plea for help than any that had come before. Chris yawned a second time and dropped into bed, his blond curls falling past his shoulders and working themselves into tangles and knots that he would undo with a comb in the morning while fashioning a new ponytail. He lay on his back with one arm tucked behind his head as he watched Stephanie drift toward the side of his bed. She held her arms in front of her body and curled them, almost hugging herself, in a way.

She spotted a partially downed water bottle near the bed and pointed. "Can I have a drink?"

"You can have anything you need while you're here," Chris replied. Their eyes met and he stared her down, licking his lips. "You know that."

Stephanie's hair fluttered against her cheek when she sighed heavily, and she uncapped the plastic bottle with shaky hands, downing the rest of the liquid inside, which was little less than half the bottle. She returned the cap and tossed it in the waste bin since a recycle bin wasn't provided, lowering on top of the covers. She had come to him in an old, baggy Wrestlemania tee that hid all her curves while simultaneously putting her insecurities on full display. Her legs were warmed by thick, gray leggings, and she wore fluffy pink slippers on her feet. Never before had Chris seen a grown woman look so youthful.

She waited, drumming her lips with her fingertips as if she were plotting out her next move, but she wasn't. Stephanie knew just as well as Chris how this would end up. Bending forward, Stephanie plucked her slippers off, revealing her bare feet. She dropped them at the side of the bed and stood back up, pushing her pants off her hips. They fell to the floor, revealing that she had not worn any underwear. At last, she was learning. Chris formed a wicked smirk and worked off his own pants without leaving the bed. By then, Stephanie had crawled beneath the covers.

She pressed her back up against the headboard and bit her bottom lip. Chris leaned in and waited for her to drop her hand out of the way. The second she did, he kissed her into oblivion, stroking her cheek as he worked his tongue around in her mouth. As inexperienced as she was in most areas, Stephanie was well-versed in intimacy. Chris had taken her virginity roughly six months after their first meeting. Since then, they found themselves in bed together whenever passion struck, or during times when one of them were feeling extra lonely and needy.

In that way, Chris was possessive. He was the only man who had ever had her, and he was determined to keep it that way. Vince and Linda thought Stephanie belonged to them, and maybe she had, once upon a time, but now, she was _his_. She had been ever since Valentine's Day 2000, when she expressed her sadness over rarely having a valentine to call her own. Chris had stepped in and filled that role for her, and the rest was straight history. As those old memories floated through his head, he barred Stephanie in with his arms, each of his hands cupping the back of her head, and Stephanie allowed her left hand to fall to rest against his forearm. The other hand found his back.

They kissed that way for a while, until Chris grabbed Stephanie by the hips and guided her farther down the bed. Wherever he led, she followed. That was a common theme in their lives, he noticed, ever since they had met. He was happy to guide her any which way. Running her fingertips along his spine, Stephanie moaned loudly enough to rattle her throat as she wrapped her legs around his waist. Their lips smacked together and filled the room with all the sounds of lust and rapidity. Their noses smooshed together, their limbs tangling like vines, and Chris pulled out of the kiss, dotting her mouth with a light peck as an afterthought.

"What made you come here just now?" Chris asked. Casting her eyes downward, Stephanie was mousy enough in her reply that the words went nearly undetected. "Speak up. I can't hear you."

She squeezed her eyes shut, murmuring two words he had heard countless times from her over the years. "Save me."

"We've talked about this," he lightly scolded.

"Not in depth."

"But we have. I told you to hand in your resignation and come live with me. I told you that. If you want me to save you, there's your answer."

"How will it fix anything? All it will do is make Mom and Dad hate me."

"I don't know if you've noticed, but I've got money, Steph. Far more than we would need to support ourselves and live a good life, plus I'm sure you've got something saved up in addition to your stocks," Chris said. He nuzzled her forehead, stroking away a few wisps of hair that had settled along the edge of her clammy temples. "You can live with me and go back to school like you've been wanting. Your parents held you hostage with their fucking money when you turned 18 and forced you to get a degree you didn't even want, but this is your chance for a fresh start. So what if they withdraw their money now? It's way too late for that to matter. I'll pay for you to go to school myself so you can be a teacher like you've always wanted."

Stephanie held onto his shoulders for support. "It's just so scary."

"Yeah, well that's because they've trained you your whole life. They kept you afraid of everything so you would never venture out and make your own decisions. You're like their little puppet who has to follow their master plan. That's fucked up," Chris said. "What about all the plans you had for yourself? None of those matter?"

"Apparently not," Stephanie shrugged. She flicked her eyes upward and pursed her lips. "But I don't want this to be my life anymore."

"You're the only one who has the power to change that. I don't know how many times I can repeat myself like a broken record. If you want to stop being controlled, come to Tampa with me. Your parents don't have control anymore, but for reasons I'll never understand, you keep giving them the power to make you stay, and it's been like this for years now. You're the only person stopping yourself from leaving. Move where I am."

"But how?"

"Really?" Chris scoffed. "You're an adult. Figure it out."

"No," she said, recoiling with hurt, "I didn't mean it that way. I'm saying, like, how should I go about telling Mom and Dad?"

"Tell them what you keep telling me when we're alone together," he answered. "You don't have to be mean or confrontational. I mean, they are still your parents. Just explain that you're not happy doing what you're doing and that you want to go back to school and get another degree. Tell them you want to explore other avenues and see what else is out there. It's not hard stuff. You just have to do it. They've got you thinking like a child, like you can't even make decisions for yourself. It's crazy."

"It's hard to branch out on my own."

"You're 27 years old, soon to be 28. Time to stop suckling on Mommy's teat, eh?"

She cast her eyes down again. Her chin wobbled the slightest bit. "It's not funny."

"No, it's not. It's sad, actually," Chris said. "You should have made a break for it back when I first met you. All they've done is hold you in a spot you don't want to be, and now all this time has been wasted. This is the only life you get, so you may as well be happy, and I'm sorry if you think I'm being harsh, but someone needs to be honest with you. This is silly. Get out of the situation and stop being a victim."

"I'm not!"

"Okay, shh, shh, all right," Chris said. He brushed down her hair with his right hand. "You're tired, I'm tired, and there's a lot to think about. You can stay the night, so let's just turn out the lights, get some sleep, and talk about this rationally over a hot breakfast in the morning, yeah?"

"Yeah," Stephanie muttered, avoiding all eye contact. Chris tipped her chin and forced her to look into his eyes. Wiggling his brows, he got her to crack a smile.

"We can even get pancakes."

"My favorite."

"Then let's get to bed."

"But what about this?" Stephanie signaled to her body, to her frantic state of undress.

"It's okay, we don't have to right now," Chris said. "Later."

"Okay."

Chris rolled onto his back and strained his arm to turn out the lamp. Stephanie shifted beneath the covers to a more comfortable sleeping position. She settled on her left side, facing the wall, and Chris shimmied up behind her, placing his hand on her hip. Aside from the faint sounds of passing cars on the adjacent highway, all was quiet in the room. Their dozing breaths mingled for a couple minutes, and just when Chris was drifting away, he snapped awake, startled by a sudden thought.

Perhaps it wasn't so sudden after all. Over the years, he had entertained the idea of a life with Stephanie, an existence far more serious than their weekly meetings as friends-with-benefits. They shared a mutual attraction and a deep emotional connection, all the makings of a great relationship. Never before had he discussed aloud the idea that had waved around in the very back of his mind, left to play by itself for fear of rejection once spoken. Now, he decided, there was no time like the present.

Either Stephanie would think it the best idea ever uttered, or she would find it ridiculous, at which point Chris could use the shield of darkness and persistence of sleep to shut out his humiliation and wake up the next morning pretending it had never happened to begin with. That it had all been an awful nightmare. Under his touch, Stephanie tensed, like his wired mind had lit up her own. With a sleepy sigh, she asked, "What's the matter?"

"Marry me."

"Um...what?"

"Don't just move in. Marry me," Chris repeated. "If I'm your husband, I become legally responsible for you. Your parents fade into the background, and we both get what we want."

"I would finally get to have a life and be a real adult, but...wait, what do _you_ want out of the deal?" she asked. "A wife?"

Chris huddled closer to her, the covers containing their body warmth. He supplied an answer just before they both sailed off to sleep. "A wife would be nice."

 **{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}**

Morning washed over them like fresh rainwater, chasing away the last little bits of exhaustion that plagued them. Stephanie was under the weather. Either that, or she was using the excuse as a cover for not knowing how to respond to Chris and his suggestion. Tossing on the first pair of jeans and shirt he came across, Chris tugged on his sneakers and left Stephanie with a promise to return with breakfast, complete with a stack of pancakes, of course. On the way down, he called Shane Helms, one of his closest friends and confidantes.

They met up down the street from the hotel and found a homey spot to grab takeout from. They ordered separately and waited on stools together for the food to come out. Chris rubbed his temples, an act that didn't go unnoticed by his dear friend. "What's the haps, dude?"

"The haps is that I'm about to be hitched soon," Chris said. The smile that spread on his face as he spoke make it unclear whether or not he was joking so, naturally, Helms had questions.

"Hitched to who? I didn't think you even had a girlfriend."

"To Steph."

"Steph," Helms squinted. His memory jogged itself, then his eyes went wide like a fish out of water. "McMahon?"

"Yeah, her. Who else?"

"You can't marry the boss's effin daughter. Have you lost your mind, brother?"

"Funny you should ask. I think maybe I have," Chris teased. He drank from a small cup of ice water the hostess had provided him and shook his head. Not once did Helms' stare leave him. Chris rubbed his eyes with the fingertips of his left hand, then dropped it, staring into space. "She's not happy, and she hasn't been for a long time. You know this; everyone knows. It's like she's being held hostage by Vince and Linda. She's fucking miserable."

"I can tell. She doesn't really try to hide it anymore."

"I told her, like, 'Listen, Steph, you can come and live with me if you want to escape your prison.' I've told her a million times, but she doesn't listen. It's borderline pathetic, actually. I'm not trying to talk shit behind her back, because I care about Steph, I really do, but she behaves like a high schooler. It's like, if I ask her if she wants to do something after work, she hesitates and immediately starts scanning the room to see where Vince and Linda are, like she thinks she has to go ask permission first. I'm like, 'You're an adult. Act like it and do your own thing!' It's sad to watch."

"Yeah," Helms agreed. "Something is off with that whole damn family. Well, maybe not Shane, he's pretty normal. The rest of 'em, though, are creepy as hell. I'm surprised Vince and Linda don't keep her locked in a room with a key. Literally."

"If they find out what I'm planning for her, they might start," Chris said. He slapped his knee with laughter, and Helms joined in. "I told her last night...oh, yeah, she came to my room. I should have started with that, but yeah, she came to my hotel room in the middle of the night and we were gonna bangski at first, but I stopped her and asked why she showed up. She comes to my room a lot, but not at two or three in the morning like she did. Usually, if she's not already in my room by the time I go to sleep, I just assume I'll see her the next morning. But she came to me and I felt like it was a cry for help."

"What did she say when you asked what was up?"

"She told me the same thing she always says. She hates her job and doesn't want to be around her parents anymore. She's sick of being told what to do. I told her she needs to come live with me and that we could get married. It seems crazy on the surface, but if you think about it, it's really not."

Helms chuckled and crossed his arms, raising his chin at Chris. "And why, pray tell, is that?"

"Because she and I know each other better than anybody. We've been cool for so long, and we do a lot of shit together. We're practically already together as it is, just without the title."

"That's true. You guys are on some crazy husband and wife type of shit, but without the actual piece of paper."

"I care about her, and I think she cares about me. She acts like she does," Chris replied, adjusting his loose ponytail with one hand. "I feel like it would be good for her. She's pushing 30 years old, and she hasn't done anything real. She travels and sees the world, yeah, but she doesn't live for herself, you know, like I said, she doesn't do things on her own terms. Every move she makes is about pleasing Mommy and Daddy, and I've told her before she's beautiful and she should be out having fun and dressing up sexy if she wants to. She should be going to school for what she wants to go to school for, not for what Vince and Linda tell her to pick. Even Shane agreed with me when I said all this in front of him one day."

"What'd he say?" Helms asked.

"Nothing specific, really," Chris shrugged, "but as I was talking to Steph about it, he was nodding his head along with everything I was saying. He sees it, but he's probably worried about speaking up too much because he doesn't want to rock the boat. I get the feeling that whole family does nothing but walk on eggshells around each other, but more specifically, Shane and Steph walk on eggshells with Vince and Linda."

"Yeah," Helms said, shaking his head. He readjusted the baseball cap he wore. "It's fucked."

"It really is."

"So what gave your brilliant ass the idea to propose marriage?"

"She's got to get married sometime, and once again, Vince and Linda keep pushing her out on dates with guys she's not even into. At least I know she's into me, so why not marry her myself?"

"You guys fuck a lot?"

"Whenever she wants it," Chris smirked. He glanced around and waited for a stream of passing customers to go on their way before carrying on. "Hell, whenever I want it, too. That's the thing about her, she doesn't use her voice and kind of just goes along with whatever the person next to her wants. And she pretends like she's ready to put her parents in their place, but she never follows through. I've had her tell me before all the things she was going to say to them backstage at a show. How she was going to confront them, and this and that, and blah, blah, blah. So I walk her to where Vince and Linda are and wait off to the side, and she just stands there, answering their questions and nodding along to everything they say. She kind of just walks away at the end of it, and I give her this look, like, she knew _exactly_ what I was thinking, but she still couldn't do it. She won't put 'em in their place no matter what."

"What the fuck kind of creepy mind control did they do on her?"

"I don't know, but I'm going to undo it, if I can help it."

Helms took a breath, choosing his next words carefully. "No offense, man, but what do you want with a wife who has no backbone?"

Chris shrugged. "Maybe I can help her build one."

"You think?"

"If anybody could, it would be me. I give her confidence when we're alone together, so if I can get her away from Vince and Linda, she'll probably get stronger and stronger until she stops putting up with their shit altogether. She has it in her. I just have to pull it out."

"Damn," Helms said. He sniffed and looked around, then back at Chris. "So you guys are really getting married?"

Chris clicked his tongue against his teeth. "If she says yes."

"That's just plain bizarre, bro. You think she'll go for it?"

"If she does, you'll be the first to know."


	2. Break Away

A/N: Thanks so much for reading. Enjoy!

* * *

Life, for Stephanie, ran like clockwork. Specific tasks were allotted to designated time slots, and she was expected to keep with the pace. Work took precedence over most everything else, and even when she returned home, the cycle didn't end. She was still expected to appear at events, playing the role of the perfect daughter to her equally perfect family. Crisp, clean outfits and a chin held high were her main accessories, and as long as she represented her parents as they saw fit, all was well.

Next on the current to-do list was a pre-planned Saturday dinner. The McMahons' neighbors had looked down on them in years past for their involvement in the wrestling business, and now, Vince and Linda were attempting to make a change. They wanted to hang with the elite, to be accepted into the upper crust of Connecticut, and to pave the way for not only their family, but for their business to be accepted as a mainstream way of life. They were at least as wealthy and noble as anyone else living within a ten-mile radius, suffice to say.

Back in the hotel room—at the window, specifically—Chris found Stephanie waiting once he had parted from Helms. He had breakfast in one hand and his room key in the other, noting how she didn't move an inch even when the door swished open and clicked back shut. Her arms remained folded as she studied the city, stared down at the buzzing traffic, and likely imagined she could be one of those people jetting off in their cars to some faraway land. She lived in her head a lot to escape the actual life she was given, the one that had been molded by nearly every hand except her own.

Chris cleared his throat as an opening, a way to reel her in, but she kept her back to him. "I've got breakfast." She said nothing, so he tried again. "Pancakes."

"Thanks," she mumbled finally.

"Are you, uh," he scratched the back of his neck and placed the bag down on the nearby table, "still not feeling well?"

"Yeah. I just feel a little off."

"Oh," Chris nodded. Quickly, he added, "Sorry."

"It's fine," she shrugged.

"What's the matter?"

This was enough to turn her from the window, to finally get her eyes on his. Her stare was cold, not for Chris, but for the thoughts running through her mind, unpleasant as they were. "There's this thing we're having this weekend, my parents and me, and I don't want to go. I'm not in the mood to plaster a smile on my face and pretend to be having fun when I'm really not."

"So tell them that."

She said nothing, but shuffled across the room, stopping at the table Chris stood before. She bypassed him to the white plastic bag with a series of red thank-you's stamped on the front. Lifting out the first container she got to, Stephanie tugged it open gently and smiled a real smile when she saw the short stack of pancakes inside. "My favorite."

"Your favorite," Chris parroted, grinning at her. "There's butter and syrup in the bag. Go have a seat and dig in."

Searching the inside of the bag, she gathered the condiments in one hand and went back to bed, stretching her legs out straight in front of her and shoving her feet under the covers. She placed the container on her thighs and unwrapped a plastic knife, using it to cut through her butter and spread it on each layer of pancake. For himself, Chris had kept it simple and gone with eggs, bacon, and potatoes. He joined her in bed after buying each of them a cold water from the machine down the hall, but before he could take a single bite, her hand came down on his arm.

"Thank you for this."

"You're welcome for this," Chris said.

"I don't know what I'd do without you. Like, if I hadn't met you or something."

The floodgates had opened, and there was no turning back. Dropping his plastic fork onto his plate, Chris brushed bacon grease off his hands and turned to her. "I want to get you, but I don't. What is it that's so scary about leaving home? You just got finished telling me you have something to do this weekend that you don't want to do, but we already know they're going to make you. So why go home, is my question? Why not come with me?"

"It's definitely something to think about."

"What's holding you back?" he demanded. "Is there something else I don't know about? Something with Vince? He's making you feel like you can't leave?"

"No, it's not that."

"Do you want to live with me? Don't answer based on what you're afraid of or what you're worried about. Just answer based on what you want. What _you_ want. Not me or your family, just you. Do you want to live with me, Steph?"

She bowed her head. "Yes."

"Do you want to marry me?"

"I mean, I love being with you."

"So do you want to marry me?" Chris asked again.

She thumbed her bottom lip. She sure did love doing that in nervous situations. "I would love to be married to a man like you. You're the best guy I've ever known."

"A man like me, or me?"

"You," she said. She let out a shaky breath and held herself with her arms. "I just get scared sometimes."

"Scared of what?"

"That nobody will understand."

"Who cares what they understand? Why should anybody else factor in?"

"I don't know."

"Then, fuck, what are we waiting for here?"

"I need a little time."

Chris looked up at the ceiling and chuckled lowly. He ran his hands over his face, then returned his gaze to Stephanie. "You want time, fine. Take all the time you need, but nobody in this world is ever going to care about you the way I do. Nobody will ever take care of you the way I would. You want to go have another miserable weekend in Greenwich with your parents? Go ahead, but just know that you could be down in Florida with me, having the time of your life instead of being forced into more shit you don't want to do. Your choice."

"I know you don't understand this."

"You're right, I don't."

"It's a lot harder than you think, having to keep up appearances and be everything you're supposed to be instead of just being who you actually are. I spent my whole life like this, and I don't know how to do anything else."

"You don't even need to say anything more," Chris replied. He sipped from his water bottle and dabbed his mouth with the back of his hand. "I've said my piece, you know how I feel about it, and that's good enough for me. I'm telling you right now, I won't bring up marriage ever again. You know where I stand, and if you decide one day that you want to try living a life that you can actually enjoy, you know where to find me. Otherwise, stay up there with your parents and keep doing what you're doing. I'm sure you'll get far with that."

"You don't have to be mean about it," Stephanie said. "It's hard enough for me without you being this way."

"Then I'll stop talking."

"Oh my god, I'm not even saying that!"

"Whatever, I'm done. You can resist me like this right now, but not your parents? Come on, dude."

"It's different with them. You don't understand."

"I think we already established that I don't understand, yes," Chris answered, giving his eyes a good roll. "Leave it alone."

"But it's not―"

"I said leave it."

Seconds ticked by as they sat lost in thought, but before Chris knew what was happening, Stephanie had closed her food up and tossed the covers off her feet. She climbed off the bed, brought what remained of her food to the table and went to the door, slipping right out without another word. Under his breath, Chris hissed, "Shit!"

Leaping from bed and pocketing his room key, Chris dashed down the hall, catching up to Stephanie as she stood outside her own room, fumbling in her pockets to find a way inside. By the time Chris reached her, she realized she had left her room key inside his room, so there was no escaping, unless she wanted to sprint down the hall and try to get the elevator to close before he could wedge his foot inside. All it took was one touch to pull her in. Chris placed his hands on her hips and spun her around while she stared at his chest to avoid looking him in the eyes.

"I was out of line just now, and I'm sorry," he said. "It's just so frustrating for me because I want to end this bullshit for you, but this is a decision you have to make on your own, and I respect that. I don't want to become like everyone else and make you feel backed into a corner. I should be supporting you, so I'll shut my mouth about it from now on. If you still want to, come back and finish breakfast with me. You need to eat. We both do."

He watched her face as she visited all the emotions: sadness, anger, surprise, then appreciation. Every bit of stress melted away until he was left with the purest version of her, the one he loved most. She slipped her arms around his neck, and just that quickly, her lips were on his. His response was immediate, and he shifted on his feet, distributing his weight more evenly so he could hold her properly, actually lifting her a couple inches off the floor.

When they broke apart, Chris used his thumb to cleanse her lips of leftover spit droplets. He tipped his forehead into hers and they swayed in each other's arms for a full minute, enjoying the other's company. With ample time to collect herself, Stephanie allowed Chris to guide her back to his room, and they returned to bed and ate breakfast while watching TV and sharing casual conversation. Chris treasured their brief time together before she would return to her roots, a long ways from Florida.

And he would miss her, just as he always did.

 **{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}**

On Monday, Chris was called upon during a meal of grilled chicken and green beans he snagged from catering. Vince wanted to see him. It wasn't unusual for a performer on the upper-tier to be ordered to see the boss, especially on a Monday afternoon, so it was with little concern that he brought his plate along, enjoying bites here and there as he shuffled over to the head honcho's office. He found the door closed like it usually was mere hours before Raw would air, so he knocked a little jingle and waited.

Tapping his foot while he chewed on a couple of green beans, the door opened and Vince wordlessly waved him inside. Chris went with a nod, stopping short when he saw who was beside Vince and, even more shocking, who was in the chair next to where he was meant to sit. His upper lip curling uncontrollably, Chris shot Vince a look, but was once more ushered inside. He slid his plate onto the corner of Vince's desk and took a seat across from Linda and right beside Stephanie.

She kept her head down the entire time, playing with a ring on her finger as a means of distraction. Vince shut the door, returned to his seat, slipped his hand over Linda's and took charge. "Thank you for coming, Chris. I know you're probably wondering what this is all about, and I'm glad to tell you. Some new information came to my attention last week, and I spent all weekend figuring out what I would do about it. Linda thought we should open the lines of communication and get this all squared away, so that's what this is about."

"Get _what_ squared away, exactly?" Chris asked, giving Stephanie a sidelong glance. He whispered, "Seriously, Steph, what's up?"

Of course she didn't answer, because she had her parents to do that for her. Linda took a big breath and just that quickly, inserted herself into the discussion. "Chris, it has come to our attention that you have a relationship with our daughter beyond what we already knew. We understood you guys were friends, and that's fine. What we didn't know was that you were seeing each other."

"I mean," Chris snickered, earning himself the stink eye from Linda, "define 'seeing.' Yes, we 'see' each other, because we're friends. We have been for a really long time. I don't know what that has to do with anything."

"Do people who are just friends make out?" she asked.

Chris scoffed. "Make out? Really?"

"Out of respect for their privacy, I won't name any names, but one of your colleagues saw you and Stephanie at a hotel last week," Linda said. "He saw you and Stephanie kissing. This wasn't a normal, friendly kiss. He saw you hug her, pick her up off the ground, and kiss her. Stephanie doesn't see the wrestlers."

"Did she say that?"

"No," Linda said pointedly. She challenged him with her piercing blue eyes. "I'm letting you know. She does not see the wrestlers. She is a McMahon, and seeing anyone in this business would be a conflict of interests. Dating you, or anybody else who works for her father, is not allowed and she knows this. Now you know it, too."

"Okay," Chris said. He watched Stephanie as he spoke. "Well, I'm not dating her, first of all. We're not together and nothing was ever official. We're friends, I care about her, and yes, I've kissed her when it felt natural. It's something we do, but I'm not seeing her. Steph, you want to speak up and weigh in on this instead of just sitting there doing nothing?"

Stephanie clasped her fingers and turned away, remaining silent. Chris rolled his eyes and laughed, reaching for his plate and standing up. "We're done here, I guess?"

"Sit down," Vince said.

"I don't need another lecture."

"Sit down!" he roared. Realizing he didn't have much of a choice, lest he risk losing his dream job, Chris lowered into his seat and swallowed down the knot forming in his throat, but it kept bobbing back up like an apple in water. He could feel his heartbeat in his hands and feet, and the rapid pulse was making him sweat. Being ambushed was no fun. "We spoke to Stephanie and she's clear about having no contact with you any longer."

"Except for work reasons?" Chris asked.

Vince chuckled. "Let me make myself perfectly clear. You have no work reason to contact my daughter. She's not your direct supervisor; I am. If you need something, you come to me. If it's something to do with your match, you talk to a road agent. Something to do with your entrance, you can ask the production truck. There's nothing you'll ever need from Stephanie. Leave her be. She has her own responsibilities, and she's seeing a man back home anyhow."

"She's what?" Chris asked, his mouth going dry. He looked over again, but Vince slapped the table.

"Don't look at her. You look at _me_. I'm your boss, and I'm the one who signs your checks."

"I don't get it," Chris cut in, holding up a hand. "You've never had an issue with us being friends before. Why now?"

"That was before we knew the nature of your relationship," Linda answered. She squared her shoulders and narrowed her eyes at him in disdain. "We asked if there was something more between you, and she told us. What's going on is inappropriate, and it has to stop. It's a total conflict of interests, and it's terrible for business. We think you need to go your separate ways. You focus on your job, and Stephanie will focus on hers. You're an exceptional talent, Chris, and I'm proud of the progress you're making, but leave our daughter out of it. That's all we ask."

"Look, whoever saw us kissing," Chris said, "it was taken out of context. She was upset and I was comforting her. That's all it was. Tell them, Steph!"

"Whatever it was, it's over now," Vince said. He stood and reached a hand out, and Chris had no choice but to match his pace and stand, accepting the handshake he so desperately wanted to shrug off. "You don't have to worry about Stephanie. We have enough sets of eyes to watch over her ourselves. You just keep doing what you're doing, and there will always be a place for you in this company. You're finally working out what it means to be an integral part of the best company in the world. That's noble."

"Thanks," Chris said, too stunned to manage anything else.

"It's the truth," Vince finished. "All right, pal, you're good to go. Go finish eating and have a good show tonight. We're counting on a handful of people to make tonight great and you're one of them. Don't let me down."

"I won't," Chris muttered.

Vince sure had a way of pep-talking him before he was set to go out and entertain the masses. Deep inside, he thought Stephanie would speak up for them, say something to keep this from happening, but when he shot one last look her way, he found her as she had been minutes earlier, playing with the ring on her finger. Chris took his plate and left the room, but he deposited it in the first wastebasket he saw. His appetite had gone away and wouldn't be back to play anytime soon.

Of all the things he knew, Chris was certain the only way this could have a chance of being fixed was if he could get Stephanie alone. The key would be to talk to her without getting caught, but backstage at a show wasn't exactly the best place to stay hidden. He could call her phone, but knowing Vince and Linda, they would be monitoring her calls, possibly even without telling her. She was on their phone plan, which was a random fact Chris shouldn't have known, but he did.

He and Stephanie talked about most everything under the sun, and anyone who expected them never to speak again was in for a rude awakening. He could wait until the end of the show and try to pull her aside outdoors, in the dark. Chris actually had to stop walking and slow his breathing, placing his hands on his hips as he processed all that this day had unexpectedly become. He was angry with Vince and Linda, but far more with Stephanie, who sat silent when she should have been fighting for everything they had.

When he resumed walking, Chris made his final decision. Work was work, and personal was personal. He would do his job, work his match and cater to the crowd in attendance, but once that show went off the air, he transformed from Chris Jericho to regular old Chris Irvine. Only then would he reach out to Stephanie and work to salvage what was left of their relationship. If she didn't reciprocate, as hard as that would be to handle, Chris would move on. There were plenty of fish in the sea.

And yet, none as mesmerizing as the only shiny little mermaid he had eyes for.

Stephanie.

 **{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}**

At six minutes past 1:00 AM, his phone rang. Chris was knocked out of an already turbulent sleep, and he knew who it was before he even picked up the phone. Taking a moment to sit up and turn on the lamp, Chris accepted her call, not bothering to diffuse his grumpy tone. "Yes, Stephanie?"

"Which hotel are you in?"

"You know I always stay at the Hilton when I'm on the road."

"Thought so. I'm here, but I don't know where you are. What's your room number?"

"Go ask your dad what his room number is and run back to him."

"Please?" she begged.

"No," he said, rubbing his eyes. Now that he was starting to wake up, his fury came rushing back. "I can't believe you. You just fucking sit there and don't say a word while they tell us we can't see each other ever again. What's wrong with you? If there was ever a time when you should have grown some balls and womaned up, it would have been then. And now you want to call me and act like everything's still the same? No, fuck this, I'm done. Go live with your parents for the rest of your life. That's obviously what you want."

She was quiet long enough that he thought he lost her, but right when he was about to pull the phone away from his ear and check, her stunted voice came through. "I just really need your room number. Like, it's urgent."

"Room 235."

"I'll be right there."

The click sounded and Chris pulled his phone away, letting it drop next to him in bed. He couldn't deny her even when he wanted to. He stretched his arms and yawned, making his way to the bathroom and freshening up just in time to hear her knock. Scratching his bare chest, Chris plodded across the room and opened the door. He found Stephanie as she always was, except with more color circulating in her cheeks, a brighter spark in her eyes.

Something was different. He had to figure out what. Chris invited her inside, and once he got the door closed, he spun to walk and ran right into Stephanie, who had stopped behind him without warning. He tripped over her feet and wobbled to steady himself, but Stephanie grabbed onto his waist and he stilled against her. She smiled up at him, and it was different than any smile she had ever given. This one reached her eyes and made them ignite like tiny blazing suns.

"What?" he asked.

"You forgot something," Stephanie said.

She pointed to the closed door, and he frowned, scratching his chest and walking back over. Chris opened the door and stuck his head out, first to the right. Nothing except an empty hallway lay before him, so he looked to the left, and there it was. A set of luggage. Two rolling suitcases, a big and a medium sized, sat up against the wall. Beside them on the floor was a matching bag. Stephanie slipped around the side of Chris.

She grabbed the handles of her suitcases and rolled them into his room, and that was enough to snap him out of confusion. He grabbed her bag from the floor and brought it in, shutting the door once more. An involuntary smile played on his lips as he put it all together in his mind, figured out what this middle of the night visit was all about. He still needed confirmation, and he was determined to get it.

"Is this what I think it is?"

Stephanie clasped her hands in front of her body and nodded, almost straining the muscles in her cheeks from smiling so hard. "I'm not going back. I want to come live with you."

"How did you get here? They dropped you off?" Chris asked.

"Oh, no way," she said, adding an emphatic head shake. "They wouldn't have. I told them I had booked my own flight to visit a friend."

"A friend where?"

"Well, one of my closest girlfriends from college moved to Delaware after she got married, so I told them I was going to see her for a few days. By the time they figure out that's not where I actually went, it won't matter anymore, because I'll already be with you in Tampa."

"Are you really serious?"

"Yeah."

"And you're sure this is what you want?" Chris said. "Absolutely sure?"

"I'm positive."

"Holy shit!" he said, covering his face. Stephanie's laughter led him to drop his hands and he stepped forward, enveloping her in a warm hug. He ran his right hand over her hair to smooth it down while they embraced. "I'm so happy for you. You deserve to get out of there and do your own thing. You'll be free with me. You can go to school or get another job or, hell, you can even stay home for all I care. I just want you to do whatever makes you happy."

"I definitely need to get back into school for what I want to do. It's one of the first things I need to get done."

Chris pulled away and propped his hands on his hips, shaking his head as he took in the sight of her. "Look at you. I'm so proud, and not because you're coming with me, but because you're finally doing something that you want, and not what everyone else wants."

She tucked her hair behind her ears. "Yeah, I wasn't going to leave my parents, but today was the final straw for me, when they said I couldn't talk to you anymore. I would never cut you off like that. It would never, ever happen in a million years. You're my best friend."

"And you already know you're mine," Chris replied.

"I still don't know who saw us in the hall and told them we were kissing, but they were asking me a ton of questions about you and what our relationship is like. They wouldn't let it go, and they asked me a bunch of intrusive questions. I finally told them the truth, so now they know we've had sex a bunch of times, and they freaked out. They wanted me to wait 'til marriage, which is hilarious, because neither one of them did."

"That's neither here nor there," he said, rolling his eyes.

"I know, but the whole thing was so crazy. Once they found that out, they went off the deep end and told me I couldn't be around you anymore, and that was when I realized how right you were about everything you said to me. I'm an adult and I shouldn't be going along with every little thing my parents say," Stephanie explained. "You were the first person to make me realize that, and it means a lot, and I want us to get married. I think we make a good couple. I mean, we've never really been an actual couple, but if we got together for real, I think we'd be good."

"I'm really excited, Steph. For everything."

"I'll call tomorrow and let them know I'm okay, but I'm not telling them where I am or who I'm with. When you go back to work, you have to act like you don't know where I am. It's okay if you tell them you've heard from me or that I've called you, but don't tell them you know where I am," she said. "I don't need them coming to Florida and causing me even more stress, so keep it quiet. Just don't say a word."

"I won't."

"You said I'd always be safe with you," she said, taking a step closer. "Am I safe?"

Chris reached out and patted her hip. "You're always safe. I'd never let anybody hurt you."

"Okay, good. Because I'm taking a big risk and really trusting you."

"You _can_ trust me. There's nothing I won't do for you. Not one single thing I wouldn't do."

"Thank you."

"Show me some love," Chris said.

Stephanie went to Chris and held onto his neck, hopping up into his arms without warning. He grunted but still managed to catch her by sliding his left arm beneath both of her knees. He kissed the top of her head and rocked her for a moment, taking the next step to carry her to bed and lie her down. He dropped to his knees and untied her shoes, pulling each one from her foot and removing her socks.

Catching onto her wrist, Chris gently pulled her up so she was standing and he unbuttoned her pants, leading them down and waiting for her to step out of them. She wore a button down, long-sleeved shirt that he couldn't imagine was too terribly comfortable. "You want something else to wear to bed? I have some extra stuff that's super comfy."

"That would be perfect."

Chris gave a nod and went to his open and messy suitcase, sorting through the fabrics until he found a blue, crew neck shirt. He handed it off to her and while Stephanie got herself changed at the foot of the bed, he climbed back in and rolled onto his back, resting his head atop the pillow as he watched her with a lazy smile. In some ways, this was a moment he thought would never come, but he was thankful it had. When she was dressed in the shirt and her panties, she followed the edge of the bed and pulled the covers back on the side opposite to Chris, climbing in and rolling toward him.

"I feel really happy right now," she said.

"Good. That was all I ever wanted. You deserve to be happy no matter what it takes to get there."

"When do we go home?"

"It feels so good to hear you call it that."

"It's going to be my home too, isn't it?"

"It already is. Why don't you get some sleep and we'll see each other in the morning. If you wake up and I'm gone, it's because I went to grab breakfast, so don't be freaked out or anything. I'm going to take you home tomorrow and we'll get settled in until I have to be at work again next Monday."

"Oh," she gulped. "Um, so I have to stay at the house without you?"

"I thought you were getting back into school and stuff."

"Yeah, I was, but..."

"You don't have to be alone right away if you don't want to. We'll make it work," Chris said. "I'll bring you on the road with me, but we have to start staying at motels instead of hotels or places where none of the other guys or girls will get a room. We can't risk anyone spotting us and telling your parents where you are. I'm fine with them knowing we're living together, no matter what they do to try and punish me, but not until you're ready for them to know."

"Okay. I think I want to come with you, though," she said. "I know I'm 27 and I shouldn't be nervous staying by myself for a few days, but you have to understand this is the first time I'm going to be away from my parents, and I really need you right now. I'm going to need you a lot at first, just until I get used to this."

"I'm all yours."

She scratched her cheek and yawned. "We can sleep now, right?"

"Yeah, we can sleep. Goodnight," Chris said. He shifted far enough over to reach her and kissed her cheek. "I'll see you in the morning. I'm proud of you."

"Thanks. Goodnight."

With the lights turned out, Chris flopped onto his side and closed his eyes, desperate for some rest after the dramatic day he had been subjected to. Right when his breathing regulated and he started to drift away, he felt the bed move as Stephanie wiggled up close to his back. She ran her hand up and down the side of his thigh a few times, then settled against him with her forehead pressed to the middle of his back. With sleep closing in, he smiled despite himself.

This, Chris decided, was fate intervening in both of their favors, and he had zero complaints.


End file.
